The Perils of Demonology
by Troll Boy and GoS
Summary: HP Good Omens crossover. Lord Voldemort thought that summoning a demon would be an easy way of getting hold of the contents of that elusive prophesy. Lord Voldemort was wrong.


Disclaimer: The Harry Potter novels and the characters therein belong to JK. Rowling. Good Omens is the property of Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman.

A/N - I had a few spare hours this afternoon so I decided to write another very silly Good Omens crossover. For some reason I thought it would be funny if Voldemort decided to summon a demon and got Crowley. As always, any kind of feedback is welcome.

Lord Voldemort was growing increasingly frustrated. He had only a few of his Death Eaters available to assist him with the ritual, the rest having recently been relocated to fashionably minimalist accommodation in the high security wing of Azkaban. Unfortunately of the three members of his inner circle who had managed to avoid incarceration one was prone to quivering in uncontrollable terror if his master so much as asked him to pass the salt, one possessed the intelligence and common sense of a below average lemming, and one, whilst a competent practitioner of the dark arts, had a freakish obsession with him that was becoming increasingly deranged and creepy.

"Goyle that not how you draw a circle," he snapped, on seeing the mess that his inept henchman had made of the chalk outline he was supposed to be drawing on the cellar floor.

Goyle merely looked at him dumbly. Accidentally snapping the stick of blue chalk, the muggle shop they had ransacked had run out of the traditional white, between his oversized fingers.

"I'll do it Lord," said Bellatrix, looking at him with undisguised adoration in her eyes.

"Yes, let Bella do it," he said trying not meet her slavishly devoted gaze. "Pettrigrew have you managed to open the book yet?"

"...Muh," Pettigrew cringed.

"What? Speak English."

"Y.. Yes Master."

"Well pass it here then you imbecile." _You really couldn't get the staff these days_, he thought irritably as Pettigrew hesitantly handed him the dread grimoire; opened to page 158. It has been written a thousand years ago by feared dark witch Gretchen the Socially Deviant, and was bound in human flesh. Well, this wasn't precisely true. Old Gretchen had been a bit of a skinflint at heart, and had opted to cover her treatise on the summoning of demons with second hand imitation human flesh, which she had bought at a discount from a bloke she met down the local tavern, who, when questioned, swore blind that it had fallen off the back of a cart.

"I've finished the circle oh Lord," said Bellatrix.

"Right. Good. Now light the black candles." The black candles in the ornate silver holders were not a necessary part of the ritual, but Lord Voldemort was a firm believer in the power of mood lighting.

_Okay_, thought Voldemort as he tried to switch to full Dark Lord mode. _Circle of confinement, check. Appropriate ambiance, check. Three foolproof completely unambiguous questions to ask any demon who happens to manifest, check. _He cleared his throat and prepared to begin the invocation. "Goyle get out of the circle you idiot. Right is everyone ready to begin?"

"Uh?"

"Yes m..master"

"Yes, oh Dark Lord of my heart."

Voldemort started to read from the book. After four false starts in which he repeatedly mispronounced the word 'manifestation' things began to happen. A strange breeze began to sweep through the cellar, putting out the candles and blowing about a few miscellaneous bits of paper that happened to be lying around. He finished the passage and looked at the circle expectantly; nothing was apparating inside of it.

"Err.. What's s'posed to happen now?" asked a terminally confused Goyle. "Is that where Harry Potter is going to appear."

"No that was last years plan Goyle, you dimwit. I'm going to force the powers of darkness to tell me what that damned prophesy said."

"No one engages in pointless exposition quite like you Master," said Bellatrix.

"Oh shut the hell up Bella..."

There was a small pop as something appeared inside the circle. It was not as Voldemort had expected, a terrible seven eyed, many tentacled apparition from the pit, but a dark haired young man with eyes like a snake, who was wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer shorts. He looked as though he had been peacefully asleep until a few seconds ago.

"What the fuck just happened?" demanded the apparition.

"You're a demon aren't you?" asked Voldemort his Dark Lord act suddenly offset by uncertainty. If it turned out that he'd summoned a random muggle or something by mistake he was going to have to kill his remaining Death Eaters lest anyone find out about it and laugh at him.

"Yeah. Oh I see, standard three questions is it?" The apparition snapped his fingers and was suddenly wearing a pair of dark glasses.

"Yes," said Voldemort "I demand to know..."

"Hey, are you one of Salazar Slytherin's descendants by any chance?" said the apparition.

"Yes I am. Last heir in fact," said Voldemort smugly.

"I remember Sal. Met him in Hogsmead a few times, used to be a tavern there called the Vipers Nest..."

"The Vipers Nest. He wrote in his journal that it was place where a mystical serpent appeared to him in the night and told him that the wizarding bloodlines must be purified," Voldemort interrupted excitedly.

The apparition suddenly looked embarrassed. "Err, I'm pretty sure that I only said it must be difficult to cope with all the students coming from non-magical backgrounds."

Voldemort looked dumbstruck. "You were the serpent?"

"Well, I suppose so. Wasn't actually in snake form at the time though. Mind you, with the amount of fairy dust that he used to put up his nose I wouldn't be surprised if he had a few memory problems."

"You mean to tell me that my ancestor, the esteemed Salazar Slytherin, founder of Hogwarts, was a fairy dust addict?"

"Oh not just fairy dust; goblin weed, centaur snuff, hags brew, I think he tried just about everything..."

"Enough," shrieked Voldemort, raising his wand. "Crucio, crucio, crucio." The curse rebounded off the circle and hit the wall.

"That wasn't very clever, was it?" said the apparition.

"How dare you impugn the reputation of the greatest wizard who ever lived."

"He was the one doing it," said the apparition defensively. "Hey I don't suppose that he had a reign of terror or anything did he?"

"He divided the magical world into those who support the purity of the wizarding race, and the filthy mudblood lovers who don't," said Voldemort proudly.

"Ah that's what I got commendation for then," said the apparition. "Always wondered how I managed to 'cause widespread feuding between magic users'."

"You mean to tell me that the proud ideals of Slytherin house are based on the misheard conversations of a delusional mind?"

"Pretty much. Don't see why you're so down on the non-magical world anyway myself. Some wonderful inventions; cars for instance, and television. Oh and botox," the apparition smirked meaningfully at Bellatrix on whose complexion the years in Azkaban had not been kind. "Anyway if I'm not mistaken you've just asked me three questions, which I believe means that I can leave the circle."

Voldemort screamed the scream of a man who has just found out that role model was fairy dust junky with an addled brain. Bellatrix sobbed the sobs of a deranged fangirl who has just witnessed her object of desire being permanently traumatised. Pettigrew whimpered the whimper of someone who knows that somehow everything's going to be blamed on them. Goyle, well, Goyle was still wondering when Harry Potter was going to turn up.

"Oh, before I go, I don't suppose that any of you would be interested in selling your immortal souls to the Prince of Darkness would you? I can give you a quote now if you like?"

"Just... Just leave," cried a distraught Voldemort.

"Tell you what, I'll leave my card, and you can get in touch when you've calmed down a bit." With that the apparition vanished.

Goyle looked at the white muggle business card that now sat inside the circle. He picked it up, and after scrutinising the letters on it for several minutes, managed to read what it said:

_Anthony J. Crowley,_

_Futures Broker,_

_Tel: 666 666 666._


End file.
